


Just Hold Me

by cosplayermadness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x07, Amputee, Background Destiel, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, Duct Tape, Eileen Leahey(mentioned), Episode: s13e17 The Thing, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Kline being cute, Ketch gets blow up, Lucifer (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Nightmares, No Smut, Rowena MacLeod(mentioned), Sabriel - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Sort Of, amputee character, bed sharing, graphic description of limb loss, kentucky fried demon, kentucky fried demon extra crispy, mentions of Dean's suicidal behaviour, mentions of drinking, mentions of medieval torture, mentions of the cage, no actual descriptions, suggested rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosplayermadness/pseuds/cosplayermadness
Summary: Dean and Ketch go through the rift, leaving Sam to guard the bunker from whatever may come through, and an archangel to take care of. Easy, right? Well, not when the archangel in question isn't speaking and terrified of tweezers.Cannon complacent up until episode 13x17.*The rape is suggested in chapters seven and ten, but its very brief, maybe a paragraph and a half? No details of it mentioned. Mentions of several medieval torture devices and techniques that you should NOT google, TRUST ME*





	1. Chapter 1

“Right.” Sam turned on his heel, turning away from the rift pulsating in front of their telescope, no longer wanting to see it after Dean left. “I’ll be right back Gabe. I just need to get something.”

If the archangel heard him, he made no show of it. Still filthy and battered, he sat there, shivering, eyes darting around him lest something come out to hurt him.  _**Or maybe the illusion would fade** _ _**.**_ Sam sighed. He knew how strong the hallucinations could be and how hard it was to fight them. He knew that’s why Dean had left Gabriel with him instead of the other way around. 

Sam nodded and left to raid the bathroom, then the kitchen. Dean left him here, and he was pissed.  _ Suuuuuper _ pissed. But he got it on some level: Dean saw himself as the sole protector, the only thing between them all and death. He also was a stubborn, impatient ass that was going to be dealing with a lot of anger once he’d be back. If not from him, then from Cas. “Shit. Cas!” Sam stopped his search for the big first aid kit in the bathroom to slip the phone from his pocket. He contemplated on whether to call or text, but ultimately, his cowardice won. “Harder to yell at someone through text.” He mumbled. Sitting on the closed toilet seat, he typed;  _ Dean’s an idiot and  ~~ went through the ~~ we got the seal of Solomon, and he went through the portal with  ~~ Ketch ~~ that dick Ketch and also, we found one of your brothers. He’s alive. Can’t talk rn. Meet at the bunker and be prepared for ~~ a shock ~~ just… be prepared.  _

**SEND** . 

Heaving a sigh, he retreated to the kitchen for a salad bowl, hot water and the pack of face cloths he’d bought the week before and never put away. He doubted Gabriel would be up for a shower, but at least he could wipe up most of the grime from his face and around his wounds. 

Seeing Gabriel sitting there gripping the handle of the scalpel Sam had used to cut the stitches over his mouth as a weapon shouldn’t have been a surprise to him. But it was. His angel blade was still around and he could have easily gotten that instead. Unless…

“Hey, Gabriel?” Sam slowly moved around him, setting the bowl carefully on the table. The placed the tackle box they’d been using for a first aid kit to the left of it, sitting down carefully. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I just want to check your injuries and help clean them, okay?” Nothing. “Oh...Kay. Hmm. How about we wipe your face first?” Still, nothing. “Okay, this is just warm water, I have antiseptic in the kit too, and some tweezers and bandages to help with the… with the twins around your mouth. I also have ointment and some painkillers, so… I’ll start with cleaning around your eyelids, then your mouth. Is that okay?” A minute movement of Gabriel’s eyes fluttering onto his face was the only indication he heard Sam before fixing his eyes on the rift behind him. 

Nodding, Sam dipped a face cloth in the water, wringing it out and very slowly moved it to wipe around the eyes. Gabriel flinched, but sat as still as he could as Sam worked. The lips took longer, one hand holding the damn cloth to his mouth while another one dabbed at the cut on the left side of his forehead. Gabriel didn’t make a move to speak. He sat there, eyes trained on the rift and gripping the scalpel, knuckles blanching. 

“Man, they really did a number on you, huh?” Sam dropped the cloths, opening the tackle box and grabbing tweezers. “It’s okay if you’re not ready.” The antiseptic lay half empty in the bottom. _**Should have bought more last week.**_ “To talk, I mean. I get it’s hard, going through… um, _that. _ But you can stay here as long as you need.” Gabriel’s eyes flicked to his, holding steady. “Hey…. you’re safe now. You’re not a prisoner. I know this is scary, but just… think of it like a- I don’t know- I sometimes think of it like it’s Hogwarts. Stupid, maybe, but it makes coping easier.”

Gabriel didn’t move, just slowly let his eyes slide off Sam’s face and back towards the rift. Sam stifled a sigh, grasping the first stray piece of twine with the tweezers. “Okay; this is gonna hurt a bit, but I’ll be quick and then we can put on some antiseptic and ointment on it and if the pain is too much, we can get some ice and I’ve got some oxy you can take. But only one. Any more and it’ll knock you on your ass.” Sam hoped for a reaction, but got none. He gently placed a finger on each side of the stitch to stead the skin, and pulled. Gabriel’s whimpers of pain felt unnatural, and Sam could only shush him, reassuring him he was almost done. 

The rest of the face was the same: Sam explained what he’d do step by step, Gabriel would stare at the rift and whimper or flinch in pain, or both. After twenty minutes, Gabe’s face was starting to become his old face again. Sam turned his head gently, finding several small incisions on the back of his neck, small crescent shaped cuts over and over again marking the skin. Trying to clean them was a pain with the hair in the way, so he moved to tie it up and away. Before he could so much as gather it though, Gabriel was jerking away from him and holding the scalpel up in defense. 

“Woah! It’s okay Gabe! I just need to move your hair!” 

Several minutes of gentle persuasion and Sam tying his own hair up into a ponytail to demonstrate, Gabriel relaxed, lowering the blade. Sam took some hair up, freezing at what he saw. A bald patch just to the left of his ear, bloody from where the hair was ripped out by force. “Shit.” He gently pulled the matted mess away from the neck, searching for more injuries. Three bald spots, a brand probably from a heated belt buckle, a long thin scar running from back to front near his part, and a bump from something like wood or rubber. He closed his eyes, relieved that he couldn’t see the younger Winchester’s face. “Okay, it’s okay. You’re okay now.” He gathered what he could without hurting him up into a small bun, and continued cleaning his neck.  _**Fingernails** _ , he thought.  _**Over and over again to bring you closer to torture.** _ He knew all too well what that felt like. 

“When you’re feeling more stable we’ll get you into the shower, how does that sound.”  _Flinch_ . “We have a bathtub too. It’s from the forties but it’s big enough for you. Whenever you’re ready.” Nothing. “I can get you clean clothes if you want?” Sam stopped his hands, sure that Gabriel shook his head minutely. “Okay. How about when you’re ready, or you need anything, you just pull on my sleeve okay!” 

Sitting back down in front of him, Sam saw the awful state of him. Bruises littered his face, obscured from the dried blood and grime, eyes hollow. He was miserable, and for good reason. If this was Dean, Sam would gather him in a hug and rub his back. But he wasn’t Dean. 

He started to tidy up the first aid kit and the dirty water bowl when the bunker door slammed open. Gabriel went into a frenzy. He’d never seen an angel run to cower in a corner, whimpering like Gabe did. He still gripped the scalpel right, poised in front of his chest. 

“Sam!” Castiel’s heavy and fast footfalls drew him out towards the stairs before his voice did. “How could he  _ do that? _ ” He demanded. “Dean promised me,  _ promised _ me that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. What does he do instead? Exactly that!”

“Shhhhh!” Sam meets him at the foot of the stairs. “You scared him.”

He scoffed, such a Dean thing to do. “Dean’s hardly one to get scared by a scolding. I think-“

“No. Gabriel.”

That stopped him dead in his tracks. “Ga- no, no. He’s dead. He died. He’s dead Sam. No- are… are you sure? He could-“

“It’s him.” Sam spoke softly, coming closer to his friend. “Ketch found him. Ass-modeus had him chained up and draining him for his grace. He’s… having a hard time coping. He won’t speak, but I think… I don’t think he’s well enough to heal himself.”

Castiel nodded. To anyone else, they would look at his face and assume that he was stone cold. The great thing about Dean and Sam though, was the ability to look past the emotional mask and see the vulnerability underneath. Tears collecting on the corners of eyes, shoulders slumped. He nodded twice. 

He took one look at the shadow covered archangel - the only one of the angels to play with the fledglings, the one who taught them to fly, the Trickster, the left hand of God - and was thankful for the inability to throw up. He was far from the strong, compassionate, arrogant brother he once was. “Brother…”

Gabriel visibly flinched at the outstretched hand, shoving the scalpel further. “Gabriel… Gabriel, it’s me, Castiel. Do you remember me? I’m your brother.” Gabriel said nothing, eyes still frightened. “What… what happened to him?” Castiel asked softly.

“Asmodeus had him in a cage in hell. Crowley’s old digs. He.. he was draining him of his grace,” Sam repeated. At the mention of his grace, the hand on the scalpel tightened, muffled screams escaping from behind his now free lips. “I- there’s a lot of old wounds, Cas. Like, he’d been hurt, then healed, then hurt again. There’s a lot on the back of his neck - the left side looks like track marks.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Track… oh. Like addicts who inject themselves with drugs. The-” his hands balled in fists of their own volition. “That’s where he was taking the- how long was he in hell? Has he said anything? How did he get here?”

Sam grimaced. “Ketch.”

“Ugh. Of course. That’s just  _ great _ . Why would he… how… what’s the catch?”

“Protection.” Sam carefully dragged a chair close to Gabriel, sitting on it backwards, leg on either side. “He’d been working with that ass and surprise, surprise: he pissed off the white suit wearing fuck and got the shit beaten out of him.”

Castiel hummed in thought. After a moment, he asked, “What happened to his mouth?”

“Sewn shut.”

Castiel’s grace crackled in the air - Sam had felt it enough times to know the smell of electricity and fresh snow with the static charge making the hair on his arms stand up - the closest light bulb shattering without a touch. The sparks scared Gabriel only more, his hand clenched so hard they heard a snap of the handle. “Brother. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He squatted. “Let me heal you.” Cas reached out to touch him, Gabriel slashed in an arc, slicing through Cas’ palm without resistance. “Gabriel!” He pulled his hand back, summoning a little grace to heal it. 

“I don’t- Cas. Could he maybe… not remember us?”

Castiel’s grim expression was more than enough confirmation. “Let’s take him to lie down. The room next to yours is unused, right?”

Sam nodded, standing and slowly coming towards Gabriel. Cas stepped away and watched in disbelief as his brother lowered the weapon and allowed the tall man to pick him up. Gabriel’s eyes glazed over in fear. His hands tightened on Sam’s flannel as he carried the dirty angel towards the bedrooms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mentions of Dean's suicidal behaviour between episode 1 and 6 of season 13

The room had little else save for the bed, the dresser, and a lone night stand. The sheets were dingy and gross, so Sam called for Cas to grab him a chair to put Gabe in as he changed them. Gabriel, archangel of the Lord, being with three sets of wings and a horn of truth, curled into a tiny ball on the bed once the sheets were clean.

“Oh, Gabe.” Sam made an aborted move to take the hair tie from his hair, but decided against it, leaving for the laundry room to grab him some of Dean’s clothes to wear. They weren’t exactly the same size, but Sam hadn’t done laundry in weeks, and he was running low for himself. When he brought them though, Gabriel only tucked his head into his knees more. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m not going to rush you, okay? I’m just going to leave these on the chair here. Once Dean comes back, I’ll go to WalMart and get you your own. Maybe see if they have any CandyLand graphic tees, huh?” He tried joking, but the sentiment fell flat. “Okay, I’m going to just go to the library with Cas and wait by the portal. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, okay?”

Gabriel didn’t react. Sam sighed softly and left, closing the door behind him only to have Gabe’s muffled screams stop him. He looked confused until he saw how the shorter man was looking at the door. **_Angel, not man_**. “Oh! Door open?” Gabe nodded minutely. If he’d blinked, he would have missed it. “Door open then. I’ll keep all the lights on too, okay?” Gabe only lay his head back down. “Okay. One hour.” Then he took his leave.

He didn’t like the angel - never did. Especially after killing Dean a hundred or so times and trapping them in a TV land where he had Herpes. He shivered at the memory of a Judge Judy look alike yelling at him for not paying reparations for his “ex-wife’s” Beanie Baby collection. But he never would have wanted this. To be stripped of his ability to heal himself after how many years of torture, to be forced to live in squalor, to have his _mouth sewn shut_. No, Gabriel wasn’t a nice angel, but even he didn’t deserve all that. He had no idea how he was supposed to help him, no book on _How To Help Your Archangel: Caring For A PTSD Survivor After Fleeing The Clutches Of A Kentucky Fried Demon. **Huh. Kentucky Fried Demon. Have to remember that for when Gabe’s more coherent.**_ Sam shook his head. It was a stupid joke, but then again, he was the Trickster. Bad jokes and pranks were his thing.

Castiel was no better once he joined him again in the library. He’d clearly fallen into the chair closest to the rift instead of sitting down carefully like usual. His head tilted back, fingers pinching his nose in exhaustion, he said “I never expected this. Last week, we were stuck in a cartoon, and now… Your assbutt of a brother jumped into a portal to another world with the man who killed our allies, and _my_ assbutt of a brother is back from the dead - only, it’s not him. Not who he used to be. He looks more dead now than he did when he’d _actually been dead!_ ” There was a choking sound that sounded awfully like he was trying not to cry. “If I were human, I’d need a mental institution, but not that one we were in back when....” He looked up at Sam. “I’m sorry. I just can’t- I can’t- “ Tears rolled down his face without his permission, angry hands wiping away at them with fury. “I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s just one awful thing after another, and I know, I _know_ that’s our life now, but I can’t imagine what could possibly happen, and that… scares me. I’m scared Sam.”

He sat down across the table from his friend. “So I am. I’m scared too Cas. But he’s back, and he’s safe here, and we have each other. You, me, Dean - Team Free Will, remember?”

The laugh was ripped from his throat, bitter. “Oh yeah, and it’s working just great.” He straightened in his chair. “I hate this. He’s always doing whatever he wants, never asking what we think, just tells us what’s going to happen, and he’s sacrificing himself like he’s this stupid martyr and-”

“You mean Dean.”

“Of course I’m talking about Dean!” His shout startled Sam. “Isn’t he smart enough to know how much I’ve given up for him? Doesn’t he know that I have his back, all the time, every time, even when he’s being an idiot, and a FUCKING MORON WITH THE DAMNED BLEEDING HEART OF A FUCKING MORON!” Cas yelled at the rift, getting no response from it.

Sam’s eyes widened. “You really don’t know, huh?”

“Don’t know what?”

“He-” Sam grimaced. He didn’t want to tell castiel this way. “When you- when Lucifer stabbed you, he- Dean kneeled next to your body, for _hours_ , Cas. He bound your body, sat Shiva, refused to let the angels take you. He made a pyre, lay your body, he wouldn’t let me help lift-” Sam let in a shuddering breath, voice thick. “Wouldn’t let me help list you onto it. I had to almost punch him in the face to get him to let me help him. He stood there until it was just ashes; then he knelt for another two hours after. He drank, he wailed on everyone, and I mean _everyone_. He even snapped at a diner waitress when she forgot the ketchup. And she was hot Cas, _really_ hot. He-” Sam stopped, no longer wanting to talk about this.

“What, Sam? What did he do?”

“He-” in a soft voice, he replied, “He killed himself.” The library was quiet. The sound of the heat turning on was the only sound for several tense moments. “The day you came back, when you called - he- GOD, Cas. There was a case and we needed to burn a bunch of bodies, this twisted plague doctor taking kids even beyond the grave. He stopped his heart, Cas. I had to- I had to stab him in - stab him in the heart with Adrenaline. He- cas, he was down a long time. He was… he was suicidal. I caught him the week before, standing in the kitchen, just holding a knife. He was looking at it for like, three minutes straight. He looked like he was gonna- Cas. He was _lost_ without you. I’ve never seen him like that. It _broke_ him. I know in that barn… with Micheal’s lance, when you said - I know how you feel about him.” He held a hand up at Castiel’s open mouth, stopping him from interrupting. “Listen, I’ve known for a while. Years, actually, and when he comes back from that rift, you two go find a room and talk this shit out like adults, cuz _I CAN’T_ with this anymore. You saw how happy he was when we went on that cowboy case? It was 95% because of you. Maybe 90% you, 5% seeing you in that ridiculous hat. Jack said he couldn’t understand why Dean looked at you ‘like that’, which, by the way, I’m not giving the kid the birds and the bees talk because, no. I draw the line at explaining that to him. Dean gave me one and it _sucked_. But, seriously,” he adjusted hit hips on the chair. “He loves you, Cas.”

“Like a brother.”

“Holy fucking shit Cas, NO! If he looked at me like _that_ , I’d need seventeen therapists. No, Cas, he loves you like you love him.”

Castiel let in a shaky breath, but before he could respond, the rift shimmered.

“‘Bout time.” Sam stood to great his brother, only to be faced with a short, thick south american woman, hair cut short by her ears, jeans and thick canvas jacket covered in dirt. “Ooh! I think I’m going to like it here.”

Sam moved forward to ask her who she was, but Castiel’s angel sword was already drawn. “Demon,” he snarled.

Her eyes flicked black. “Oh, wow, an angel! Oooh, and a cute one too!” She slipped two knives from her sleeves, rings on the pummel which she used to twirl them around her fingers. “Let’s dance, huh?”

She lunged at him, nicking his right arm and making a huge tear in his coat. Sam reached under the table and grabbed the gun Dean stashed there. Castiel stabbed at her, catching her knife along his blade as she blocked him. He pushed with his elbow, shoving her away from him. Sam pointed his gun at her, but didn’t have a clear shot, Cas’ arms a swinging flurry as he blocked her attempts at stabbing him in the chest. She had good form, kicking at him with the toe of her boot and shoving him back with her knee to his groin. But Castiel was a seraph; he was better. In two swift moves, he faked left, then stabbed right, straight down into her chest. One of her blades caught his shoulder but it was nothing to him as she flickered and died. He let her limp body fall to the floor. He ripped the knife from his shoulder and slammed it to the table. “Well that was unpleasant.”

Sam huffed a breath, letting the arm holding the gun drop. “No kidding.”

Castiel tilted his head in concentration. “You should check on Gabriel. I can handle watching the rift a while. He’s no doubt heard the fighting and is uh ‘freaking out’ right now.” Castiel doing air quotes would never not be funny to him. “Leave the gun though, I doubt that would make him feel safe.”

Sam nodded, holstering the gun back under the table. “I think you’re right. Just uh… shout if you need anything.”

“Of course.” He toed the dead demon, collapsing back into the chair in annoyance. “I don’t think I can heal him Sam. His wings… I used to be able to- I can’t heal him. This will be long and painful for him.”

“Thanks for… thanks for telling me.” He turned on his heel to stride down the hallway to check in on the hurt angel, wondering if this meant that he was basically human now. The taste of pennies and vomit filled his mouth at the thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam expected Gabriel to be curled up in bed, still the tiny, dirt ball he had left not twenty minutes ago. Boy, was he wrong.

The bottom of his stomach dropped out, the taste of vomit overwhelming now.

Every single wall, every single corner he could reach, Gabriel had drawn sigils. Hundreds of them written in black permanent marker - Sam couldn’t think of a single place Gabe could have gotten his hands on one - some familiar, some very strange. He looked around the room, looking for the angel, only to find him in a corner, shivering and whimpering yet again.

“Gabe…” He slowly walked towards him, closing his eyes a second when he visibly flinched. “It’s okay. You heard that, huh? It’s okay. Just some nameless demon that slipped through the rift. You know the rift in the library? Cas got her. Took him maybe two, three minutes to kill her. No one’s coming here to hurt you. I won’t let them.” He knelt in front of Gabriel. He’d taken out the hair tie at some point, the black band on his wrist. Sam mimicked him, taking his own and wrapping it around his own wrist like a cheap bracelet. “I’m here, I’m not going to let them hurt you. I won’t let _him_ hurt you.” Gabe looked into his eyes. “Never again, you hear me? Never. Again.”

A cut off sob ripped itself from Gabe’s throat, tears spilling over as he tried to stop from crying. Sam gently rest his hand on the other’s knee. It rested there for a few moments, letting Gabe catch his breath, mouth opening for the first time without the stitches in a long time. He dropped his head onto his knees, trapping the hand there. He cried like he’s never done before, shaking and breath being stolen from his lungs. Sam moved another hand slowly to his shoulder, rubbing in a gentle circle.

Once he took a deep breath, he lifted his head. The thunk of his head hitting the wood of the dresser behind him made them both flinch. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel sad about what you’ve been through. I can relate.” He smiled, hoping there was warmth behind his eyes. “I-”

The growl of his stomach was deafening. But Sam realized with horror that it wasn’t his stomach. It was _Gabriel’s_. Gabe realized a half second after too, horror colouring his eyes as he looked down at his own stomach. He let his hand drift there, holding onto it.

“We have some soup in the kitchen. I’m going to heat it up, get some bread, and I’ll be right back, okay?” Gabe looked back into his eyes, blinking slowly. “I’m going to take that as a yes. I’ll be right back.” He patted his knee gently, then shuffled back to stand up. “Do you want help to the bed?” Gabe looked away. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

He spent a good six minutes looking for the damned can opener, only to find it on top of the shelf near the fridge, next to the half eaten box of muesli. He let his head thunk against the wall once. He had to keep his composure, but it was difficult. He still had nightmares about being in the cage, not that he told Dean. He told Rowena because of course he did; he thought she would relate. He should have realized she’s was playing him the whole time - whether she was scared of Lucifer or not. Seeing Gabriel so broken, so scared - it was a lot. A lot, a lot. But Cas wasn’t in any place to take care of him, and with the rift clearly being open to everyone and everything to pass through into their world, it made more sense for him to be there, and Sam to take care of the archangel.

He hummed to himself as he opened the can of soup, tuneless and without rhyme, dumping it into a pot. Vegetable medley would have to be enough until they could grocery shop. It simmered far too slowly for his liking, shifting from foot to foot in impatience. His own stomach grumbled now. “That’s what happens when your last meal was roofied kale.” He shook his head, opening another can and dumping it in too. He grabbed whatever was left of the bread and sniffed it. _**Good enough**_. He puttered around the kitchen, getting bowls and plates, looking for the tray Dean insisted on getting at that God-awful thrift store in Hastings. He found it wedged behind the toaster, rushing with it to the pot to take the soup off as it started to burn.

Gabriel had managed to make it to the be on his own - barely. His leg started to ooze blood through his dirty pant leg. Sam closed his eyes a second. He’ll be fine. He’ll be okay. _ **This isn’t like Lucifer in the cage.**_ He thought. ** _No, this is worse. His grace was being leeched off him._** He straightened his back, opening his eyes, glad Gabe was looking at his leg and not at him. “Gabriel?” the angel startled, head lifting. “I’m back with soup. I hope you like vegetable.”

He placed the tray on top of the dresser. Moving the chair closer to the bed, he took down a bowl for himself, putting the tray with the other next to Gabe. “It’s hot, so be careful. There’s bread there. It’s rye.” He was openly staring at Sam now, eyes tracking every movement. “It’s just from a can, but it’s not half bad. It’s not organic or anything, but it’s not condensed either. That’s good, by the way.” He knew rambling was weird, especially about soup, but total quiet would do more harm to him then idle chit chat. “Condensed soup tastes like puree scrap vegetable peels. It’s gross, but cheap. That’s probably why a lot of people like it. Food isn’t cheap, which is stupid, cuz we all need it to live, you know. I - oh man, I took Dean to a farmer’s market, oh! You would have loved it. Not the organic food, but his face. It was a little after he came from pur- from um, somewhere, and, anyways… We were walking around for a good twenty five minutes before he realized we were around other people. It was… it was kind of funny, actually. I bought apples, and I ate one in front of him and he was all _‘Sammy-_ ’” He tried to pitch his voice as low as possible, mimicking his brother. “ _‘Where the hell are we? What are you eating?’_ I couldn’t believe him. He picked out a bushel of tomatoes not five minutes before.”

It might have been the trick of the light, but he could have sworn the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in the start of a smile. So Sam kept talking. Just about food, staying clear of anything that might set Gabe off, or anything about what happened since his ‘death’. It wasn’t until he had finished his own soup that he realized Gabriel hadn’t so much as touched his own.

“Gabe, you gotta eat, man. Here, let me-” he brought the spoon with some soup to Gabe’s mouth. Within one second and the next, Gabriel’s eyes widened, and with a huge shove, Sam, the spoon, and the soup all clattered onto the floor.

Sam sat on his ass, staring up in shock. His shirt was soaked, the liquid still very warm on his skin. Gabe looked on in horror, not saying anything. Sam closed his eyes, slowly standing. That was clearly a wrong move, as Gabe hurried to the headboard, pressing himself up against the wood. “Gabe-” He whimpered. “I’m- I’m not mad, Gabe, please….”

He started to rock back and forth, arms around his knees.

So close to getting a smile, and all the way back to zero.

He took a breath. He could do this. They could get through this. He just needed to try again. He bent down to pick up the broken bowl, but he couldn’t grip it. He steadied himself. He pressed against the old scar on his palm, an old habit to calm himself now. He stood up, calm face. “I’m grabbing a mop and clean this up. We can try eating again later, okay?” Gabriel just kept rocking, so Sam took his leave.

His walk turned into a sprint when he heard a shout from the library.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic depictions of an amputated limb, a pipe bomb causing a character to loose their leg below the knee in a very grisly way. If this may trigger you, please skip this chapter. It also depicts some wounds from torture Gabriel suffered under Asmodeus' hand.

Chapter Four

Sam stopped short, mouth hanging wide open. 

“Close it! Cas, close the rift!” Dean yelled. Cas moved quickly to do just that, Jack dragging a chair close to Dean. They were both dirty, soot covering them from head to toe. Jack’s hair was standing on end, mud and viscera stuck in it. Dean had a gash on his cheek, and his balance was off. But it was at the sight of his mother that made him actually vomit into the nearest garbage can. Dean deposited her into the chair, dropping to his knees to tear at her shredded pant leg to reveal her mangled leg. Or what was left of it, that is. 

Just below the knee, maybe four inches, was a shredded mess. It looked like she’d gone three rounds with meat grinder. It was a miracle she was still conscious. They left a line of blood from the rift to the chair, her face pale, every inch of her covered in grey and black soot. Her breathing was laboured and she shook from pain. 

Sam dove for the table, snatching the first aid kit and the pain pills, sliding to his knees to tie off the leg. 

“Cas! NOW!”

“I AM DEAN!” Cas muttered something and the rift did indead close. 

Sam riffled through the kit, dousing her entire leg in antiseptic. She jerked against the sting, screaming in agony. Castiel rushed to her side, putting two fingers to her head and knocking her unconscious. 

“Can you fix this?” Dean spat at him. Cas’ face was twisted in dread, obcious that he couldn’t.

Jack placed a hand onto her shoulder, the blood slowing to a drip. “I don’t know how to fix this, but the bleed has stopped. Father, what do I do?”

Castiel closed his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek. “You did great, Jack. I’ll fly Dean and Mary to the nearest hospital and they can… they can-” He covered his mouth in horror, choked sob stealing itself from his chest. 

Sam grabbed the gauze from the box, wrapping her stump as best as his shaking hands could. He couldn’t look up, he didn’t dare. He had to pretend this was someone else, not her, GOD, not her! He tuned out whatever Dean and Cas were saying, handing Jack some alcohol wipes to get some soot off her face and out of his own hair. In ten tense minutes, he did the best job he could, and in those ten tense minutes, he kept chanting, its not mom. It’s someone else. It’s someone else. Not mom. When Jack’s hand came away with blood from her face, Dean grabbed at Cas’ jacket sleeve, dragging him over and shooting Sam and Jack a tense goodbye. Then, they were gone again.

Jack was petting him, he realized a moment later, or maybe if was an hour, he had no way of knowing. He looked up and opened his mouth to ask. “It’s okay Sam. Mary and I were with a rebel human camp, and we were under attack by angels. I stopped them and we were safe for a while. But there are a bunch of humans over there that kidnap humans to sell them to the angels. We were on a rescue mission when Dean and that british man found us. One of the traitors threw a… Dean called it a ‘pipe bomb’. They threw it right next to us. Dean was closer to me, so I threw mysef on him, but the British man, he dove on top of it to save Mary. But…”

“It took her leg..” Sam felt numb.

Jack nodded. “His… he’s in my… hair.” Sam watched in disgust as Jack pulled out a tooth from his hair. “That’s…. Thats a tooth.” Jack looked seconds from vomiting himself. 

“Hey, you did good. Now, can you help me up and let’s get to the showers.” 

Jack nodded. He tilted his head in confusion. “Sam, why are you covered in,” he sniffed at the shirt. “Soup?”

“Oh.” Sam looked down at himself, remembering that he was on his way to get a new shirt before they came through. “I um…. So your um, uncle? Yeah, your uncle. He’s um, here, but-”

“An uncle?” Jack’s face lit up. “Which one? Can I meet him? Is he going to like me? I should clean up first. Oh! Do you think he likes nougat? What if-”

“Woah, kid! Woah. Just, one thing at a time. First, shower. And, he’s in a bad place right now. It might be a few days before he’ll be up for visitors. He didn’t even let Castiel near him.”

Jack’s face fell. “Oh.”

The poor kid looked so disheartened. “Hey, hey, look at me. Jack, it’s not that he won’t be thrilled to meet you, it’s just he’s been through something traumatic. Kind of like… kind of like mom. He needs a moment catch his breath, you know?” Jack nodded. “Remeber how scared you were when you were first born? When you couldn’t find Cas and you couldn’t trust anyone? Your uncle lost his Cas a long time ago, and then he was thrown through… through the rinse cycle about a hundred times, then into the dryer for another hundred, just back and forth, hundreds of times.” 

“I understand.” He nodded grimly. “When he’s better, when he doesn’t feel so scared anymore, can you tell him I’d like to meet him? Maybe I can heal him…”

“I don’t know if you can, Jack. I think only time and God can right now, and God-”

“Left. I know.” Jack straightened himself and squared his shoulders. “I can wait.” He paused. “Mary is a good mom. I know she hasn’t been that great to you in the past, but she kept me safe there. There were some rebels that wanted to use me as bait. She wouldn’t let them take me. I wish I had been closer….” A tear slipped out an eye. He picked under his fingernails, voice soft. :I hope she’ll be okay.”

Sam slung an arm over his shoulders and steered him away from the dead demon, all the blood on the ground “I do too. Come on.” He steered them away from the room Gabe was in - the blood and soot would be too much right now. Settling Jack in the shower room, he quickly rinsed himself and changed into whatever he had left that was clean, walking as quickly as he could back to see Gabriel.

He wasn’t rocking anymore, which was good, but he was still in those dirty rags. Sam closed the door just a quarter, Gabriel’s gaze snapped up. “It’s okay,” Sam listed his hands. “I just wanted to get some privacy. Uh… they’re back. My mom, she...she lost her leg. Cas took her and Dean to the hospital. You probably heard her screaming, huh?” Gabriel cast his eyes down a second, then back up. “Yeah, it wasn’t… I had to shower after.. I um. I thought, maybe, once the room is free…?”

He shifted on the bed, his hand coming up to rest on the opposite arm. He took a deep breath, centering himself. Sam stood patiently, rushing would only cause another panic attack. After a moment, he shuffled himself to the edge of the bed. He made a grabbing motion towards Sam as he tried to stand, the moose catching him just in time to stop him from keeling over. Sam made an attempt to carry him, but a soft slap to the shoulder stopped him. Sam chuckled lightly as he steered Gabriel very slowly towards the bathroom. 

It took a while, especially difficult for his leg, that Sam would have to clean and dress, maybe even stitch up. Except, no. No stitches. He thought that if Gabriel even so much as saw a needle or thread, he’d got catatonic. No, butterfly strips it was. 

Jack was long gone from the shower room, thankfully following Dean’s footsteps in cleaning the shower after him. More blood was going to make Sam puke up whatever soup was left in his stomach. 

It smelled great despite having two bloody guys shower there today, the hint of orange mint shampoo Jack loved so much. ‘It smells like a good morning hug,’ he’d told Dean, earning an eye roll from him, but getting to take it home anyways. The smell seemed to be good for Gabriel too, his head perking up as they hobbled in. Sam carefully lowered Gab to the bench. He motioned towards the shower but Gabe wasn’t looking at him; he was staring openly at the bathtub on the right. It was old and deep, but not long enough for Sam’s legs. Mary said it was great for a warm bath, so Sam shrugged. “If you want a bubble bath, then a bubble bath it is.” He rinsed the tub first, it haven’t been used or washed in a few months. Then, on the hottest temperature he thought Gabe could handle, he let the water pour as he hustled back to grab the clothes for the angel back at the room. 

When he got back, Gabriel was opening bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, even the fancy shaving cream Sam splurged on at that all natural, cruelty free bath shop in the Oak Park mall. He placed the clothes on he bench next to him, reaching a hand out, meaning to help him up again, only to get the cotton candy bubble bath bottle placed in it instead. He chuckled, but obliged. Obviously, the trickster would only bathe if it meant he’d smell like candy. It did smell good, but it was a touch too strong for Sam’s taste, but who cares? 

Bubbles high, and bathroom smelling like Willy Wonka’s dream home, Sam moved to help Gabriel out of his rags. It should be noted that Sam can look at injuries without gasping and becoming a blubbering mess. He was a hunter, after all. But there were some injuries, some scars that even he couldn’t pretend were normal. The cross crossing whip scars on his back and the branding scattered on Gabriel’s chest and stomach were just those ones. He excused himself a second, making up some excuse to go back to the library, ducking into the hallway to dry heave. 

He took his grace, his mouth, now this? To do that much damage, especially an archangel vessel… Asmodeus was a dead bastard. Extra crispy. 

Sam was so caught up in his own thoughts of murdering the demon prick, he didn’t notice Jack in front of him until the kid was pushing the first aid kit into his hands. “Oh! Thanks Jack.” The kid nodded and walked away, probably the kitchen. Must not have had the appetite for lizards. 

Gabe’s leg was worse though, somehow. A hot poker had been jammed into the soft flesh on the top of his foot, dirt hiding the already healing wound. His leg seemed to have been broken and healed wrong several times. It looked like a gnarly mess, his other leg untouched. “He did this to you.” Sam lifted an almost naked Gabriel, sliding him into the warm water. “He did this to you just to be cruel. To keep you from running.” He closed his eyes. “I’m gonna kill him.” He opened his eyes to look directly into Gabe’s. “We’re going to find him and we’re going to do everything to him that he did to you. That ducking piece of shit it going to wish he made fried chicken instead of torturing people.” 

Gabriel’s face flitted between awe, bitterness, anger, and fear. It was so fast, his head spun. But he eventually stuck with awe. He pointed at the bottle of shampoo - Jack’s orange and mint - and motioned for Sam to bring it other. 

He hadn’t washed someone’s hair since Amelia. It was just not something he did with people, especially never Dean. Dean would rather die of smallpox than rely on someone else to wash his hair. Sam knows because Dean told him so. Over breakfast. In a crowded diner. So he took his time now, making sure to avoid tender areas, aware the mint would burn the still open sores. Gabriel seemed content enough anyways. He probably never had anyone wash his hair before. Which made sense, but it still felt… wrong. Nothing about this felt right, no archangel should ever need this. But he did. So Sam washed his hair, then his back, then his little toes and his legs. He motioned for Gabriel to wash his chest and stomach; the guy complied. Soon, the water was filthy, and the tub was drained and refilled, this time without bubbles.

Gabriel’s hair took the longest time; What with washing it, conditioner for the ends and salve for the scalp, along with the detangling and brushing, Gabriel was impatient for Sam to be finished. He sat shivering as Sam slathered ointment on the raw parts of his back, a towel held to his front. There wasn’t much gauze left over from his mom’s injury, so he had to make do. Just another thing on the shopping list, but not a big deal. For all the time it took, Gabriel didn’t complain once. He sat and let Sam take care of him, let him towel his hair and hold his face as he reapplied ointment and wrapping his bad leg in a makeshift splint until he let either Castiel or Jack heal him. He didn’t rock back and forth once, so Sam calling it a day once he was dressed. “Hey!” Sam said softly as he moved a piece of hair from the angel’s face. “There you are. Couldn’t see you under there before. But here you are. Do you feel better?” 

Gabriel blinked at him. Then, eyes to the ground, then back up at Sam, his version of a nod reading loud and clear. He tried to stand on his own but collapsed before he made it to the door. Gabriel, angel of the Lord, Trickster extraordinaire huffed as Sam carried him back to the room.

The sheets were dirty again, the rags he’d worn as clothes leaning dirt streaks everywhere, so back I got he chair Gabe went as Sam stripped and redressed the mattress once more. Once Gabriel was situated on the bed, comforted resting around his hips, Sam started to head to bed himself, utterly exhausted. 

A hand on his wrist stopped him. “Yeah Gabe?” Gabriel’s eyes were hooded and an uncomfortable feeling settled low in his belly. “Do you need me to stay?” Eyes darted left to right; a no. “Want the bathroom.” Again, no. “Want me to leave the light on and the door open,” Eyes down then up. “Okay. And water?” Yes. “How about I give you a burner phone, and whenever you need me, you can text me. How does that sound?” Eyes darted everywhere, Sam frowned. “Is that… is that a maybe?” Yes. “Okay, I’ll bring the phone and you choose when you want to use it.”

The phone wasn’t fancy, it barely fit forty photos, but it was an old line no one used anymore. After going through the basic usage, Sam left him to his own devices to pass out on his own bed. He could feel the floor sucking out his energy and let his brain take him somewhere else.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mentions of Dean's suicidal behaviour between episode 1 and 6 of season 13

He lost track of what time it was, he realized, waking up to the knocking on his door. It cracked open. Dean slipped inside with a grunt from Sam as encouragement.

“Mom had some surgery. They wanted to keep her for observation but Cas said he’d do it here, so you know, we’re not far from you. Also, her surgery cost us all what we had left on our cards so we’ll have to get new ones. Um…. she’s not… handling it well. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, hands covering his face. “Jack… he saved my life, and mom’s. Over there, they had her trapped. Ketch… he took a bomb for her. Doesn’t make us square with him, but-“

“I get it.” Sam sat upright. “How’s her pain?”

Dean snorted. “She’s high as a kite. Cas said he’s going to start growing weed to help her with the pain.”

Sam chuckled. “Oh man! Where would he put it? How would we grow it? What even would he make with it? Mom can’t smoke in the bunker.” He mulled it over a second. “How- Dean, the stairs.”

“Yeah. I know. The doctor gave us a pamphlet for this chair lift thing and another one for a company that makes prosthetics.” He patted his brother’s knee. “You should have seen him there, man. He went all Hulk on those doctors. The nurses thought we were married and she was his mother in law. Crazy, right?”

“No.”

“What?”

Sam pushed himself up properly. “I said ‘no’. As in ‘no its not crazy to think you two are married because you both already love each other.” He held up a finger to stop Dean's protesting. “And swear to God, don't you dare say, ‘ _but Sam, he’s our brother,_ ’ because that’s not how you look at your brother. I know; I’m on the receiving end.”

“I don’t know what you’re-“

“Shut up. You either tell him how you’re in love with him - like _love of your life_ \- or I swear to God, Dean, I’ll slash the leather seats in Baby and set your tape collection on fire.”

Dean was taken aback. “Woah. That’s a little extreme.”

“So is your inability to come to terms with your feelings for a guy for _ten fucking years_.” he sighed, yawn chasing after. “I know I shouldn’t push here, I know I’m out of line with threatening to destroy your stuff, but come on Dean. You’re both suffering here. You’re both somehow convinced that you have to suffer in silence because… what? You kept doing stupid shit to each other? That some demon or angel or- or some abominable snowman could use you as bait for the other one? Cuz you already have. You’ve both attoned and forgiven each other, and you’ve both been taken as hostage for the other person. Just… just sit down and talk. The sooner the better, because frankly, everyone is sick of you two eye fucking each other and not doing anything about it.”

Dean stared open mouthed at his brother, mouth gaping in the wind just ready for a fly to make it’s new home there. “We don’t- we don’t _eye fuck_ -”

“Mom asked me how long you two were together. We were in the grocery store and when you went to get cheese, she asked me point blank next to the tens bandages ‘so how long have Dean and Castiel been dating.’ Dean, she picked up on you two in the sixty seconds she _met him_ and you two hugged. She said you didn’t have to hide your affection for one another just on her account.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his eyes. “Look, I know I’m shoving a lot on you, I get it, but I need you to just… just take what I’m saying and don’t just dump it into a trash can that you shove the rest of your feelings into and set it on fire because it’s not healthy. It’s destroying you both to keep pretending this is okay. And seriously? If it wasn’t the eye fucking, it was the full on suicide watch Jack and I had you on for _months_ after Cas died. ‘My win, Sammy.’ That’s what you said when your mood did a 180 when he came back. No, Dean. That’s how I felt after Jess died. If she came back… I’d be the same. I-” a long suffering noise fell from his lips. “I just need you two to talk, okay? If not for you or him, then for me. For mom. For Jack. Seriously, this family needs both of you, and we can’t function if you’re both stuck with your heads in the sand looking for the sky. Now… get out. Please. I’m bone tired and I need sleep.”

He flopped back down, arm over his eyes. Dean didn’t move for a while. He probably was staring at Sam, or his hands, or the damned wall, but he didn’t move. When he did, he was silent, turning the lights off and closing the door slowly behind him. From outside his door, he heard him say, “Hey Cas. Can we- can we sit in the kitchen? We need to talk.”

Smirk on his face, he let sleep claim him yet again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * while I am disabled from a traumatic accident and use mobility aids, I have never needed a prosthetic. I should mention that healing time from amputation to beginning to use a prosthetic can range from 4-8 weeks, depending on your healing ability. Because we have angels, the healing time here is accelerated. Also, most amputees get a practise prosthetic before they receive their final one, so this prosthetic mentioned is her temporary one. *

Two weeks later, Mary started using her new prosthetic. Light blue, short, expensive. Knowing her, Sam and Dean made silent bets to how many swear words she could get in before tossing the leg across a room in frustration. Castiel was absolutely disgusted by their little bet, but ultimately got caught in the crossfire when he walked by her room just as the leg hurtled towards his head. Unintentional, sure, but the “fuck this!” from Mary followed by Cas’ surprised “oof!” was something Dean said he’d treasure forever.

Sam held her hand as she hobbled on it, Jack on her other side, trying to get her bearings as she made it around the bunker. She tried not to curse around the kid, really, she did, but this was never something any of them expected to happen.

“Break! I need- I need a breath.” She shook her arms to get them to stop. She heaved and shook from exertion.

Sam placed an arm on her back, steadying her. “It’s okay mom, you got pretty far this time. Let's break, and then we’ll get you the rest of the way to the kitchen, okay?”

“Yeah, you’re doing great Mary.” Jack wiped the beads of sweat on her brow. “You have approximately… one hundred and eighteen steps left until we reach the kitchen.”

Mary shot him an unamused look, because of _course_ he counted the steps. “Thanks.” Her tone bitter. She breathed deeply, then tried again. It took three times as long as it used to take her to reach the kitchen from her room, but it was still an improvement from yesterday. She was becoming more adjusted to the thing, but it didn’t keep her from swearing everytime it pinched, or her leg became unstable, or just anytime she tried to stand, forgetting that she was an amputee now. “Fuck!” Her good knee gave out from under her, the prosthetic falling to the ground with a clatter. Jack bent down to pick it up, securing it in place. “Fucking fuck!”

Sam rubbed circles on her back. “Maybe we rushed into this today. How about I get a chair, and you can rest, then-”

“NO!” She shook, angry tears threatening to fall. “No. I want to keep going.”

“I think-”

“Sam. I am you mother, and I know my body better than you do, so either help me make it to the kitchen, or you’re grounded.”

If this wasn’t such a serious situation, Sam would laugh. But he couldn’t. Not when she was going through such a hard time. Especially when she couldn’t even get herself to the bathroom without an escort. He suggested she switch rooms, get closer to the bathroom, but the face she made was much like Dean’s when he’d found out Sam had been drinking demon blood. So he dropped it. He dropped the pestering and the suggestions, because this was his mother. Despite everything they’d been through, she was still his mother, and he had some semblance in him to respect her boundaries.

“Okay, okay. We’ll keep going. You need another break, you let me know.”

She nodded, and they kept going.

Reaching the kitchen, Sam was surprised to see Cas standing over a simmering pot, sanse trench coat and suit jacket, Dean nowhere to be found. “Good morning. Mary, Dean and I got you a new chair to sit in. It has wheels and something called a lumbar support. I hope it’s to your liking.” He pointed to the high backed office chair sitting at the head of the table. “It has a height adjustment too, in case you want to tower over Dean when he loses a game of cards.”

Mary huffed a laugh. “Thanks Castiel. I- its sweet.” She fell into it, hands running along the soft microfiber arms. “It’s very comfortable.” She used her good leg to shove away from the table towards the plates. “Wow, these wheels are great. I love it.” Her face was solemn, but it was far better than the anger and resentment she had on it usually. “Where’s Dean?”

“He instructed me to stir this so it wouldn’t burn. He’s in the garage getting some tools to start putting up banisters.”

Mary frowned, but said nothing as she scooted the chair over to the coffee maker. Sam sat down next to Jack, tired and in need of caffeine. Or a slap to the face; whichever would keep him from zoning out as he stared at the dirty spot on the wall above the sink.

“Has Uncle had breakfast yet father?” Jack asked.

Castiel shook his head. “No, he hasn’t left his room since dinner.”

Jack nodded. “Should I bring him his oatmeal once it’s ready?”

“No, I’ll do it.” Sam made a move to stand, only his legs were jerks, rebelling against him and spasming painfully as he tried. “After. I’ll do it after.”

Gabriel had been stoic this whole time. He rarely left his room, and when he did, he trailed behind Sam like a lost puppy. It would have been almost cute if it wasn’t so worrying. He wouldn’t let anyone but Sam touch him, his leg wasn’t healing properly, limping as he walked, and he refused to look at Jack. It wasn’t the kid’s fault; if Dean killed Sam, then his kid came to live with him once Sam would be back from the dead right after the cage, Sam wouldn’t look at him either.

It also didn’t help when Jack innocently reached out to try and heal a papercut Gabriel had gotten in the library, only to have Gabriel scrambling off the chair and back into the corner of the room he’d been in when Cas had tried to heal him last. Gabriel didn’t move for hours. He just held his knees to his chest, eyes trained to the floor. Sam eventually had to carry him back to his room, muffled whimpers painful.

Dean was doing his best to avoid Gabriel too, for good reason. But he’d still sit between Gabe and Jack in the library as they read.

Dean and Jack had been getting along better after coming back from monster world. Jack brought Dean coffee and Dean made sure to serve Jack first before Mary, then everyone else. It seemed the talk between him and Cas had worked out for the better, too. Sam often caught the pair sitting close, whispering, twin smiles plastered over their faces. Sam could have sworn he also heard them giggling in Dean’s room at night on Tuesday, but he thought he’d pretend he didn’t and save himself the headache.

Dean joined them for breakfast, arm lingering on Cas’ back as he grabbed a bowl. They stared at one another, Mary, Jack and Sam all sharing a knowing look between the three of them. “So I got the parts from the hardware store, but the drill bits the Men of Letters had doesn’t go through the concrete in the walls, so Jack, Cas and I are going to go back after we eat and grab it. Do you guys need anything from town?”

“Socks.” Jack said. “I’d like a pair that isn’t just black or white.”

“Yeah, okay. Mom? Need anything?”

“A leg.” She blew on her oatmeal, face blank.

Dean tapped his spoon against the edge of the bowl in thought. “I- I’ll see what they have. Do you want me to get you crutches?”

She didn’t even look up. “No.”

The air was tense for a moment, Castiel thankfully knowing exactly what to say. “I noticed your journal is almost on it’s last few pages. Would you like another one? Maybe bound in brown leather as opposed to black?”

“Yeah…” She looked up at him. “Yeah. Thanks. That’d be nice.”

They cleared out ten minutes later, bowls left in the sink to soak. Castiel helped Mary to the library, Jack trailing along behind him with the chair. Sam left them with a bowl of oatmeal, knocking on Gabriel’s open door. Even after two weeks, he refused to have it closed fully. He clearly felt calmer, but the fear of being trapped was far stronger. “Hey, Gabe. Brought you oatmeal. I didn’t know if you wanted cinnamon or chocolate chips, so I brought both.”

Gabriel sat up straight, putting the book on selkies down on the covers. He nodded to let Sam in. The room was still covered in Enochian, but now a small stack of books was quickly making their home on the dresser and on the floor by the bed. The nightstand had an alarm clock, red numbers glowing at all hours, a small pack of playing cards he hadn’t yet opened next to it, a bottle of ibuprofen and anti nausea meds sitting upside down. Sam had kept his promise of getting Gabriel his own clothes, and the dresser drawers were starting to fill with pants, shirts, socks, and the occasional sweater. Gabriel apparently loved sweaters.

Sitting on the lone chair that never left, he placed the tray onto the bed, waiting patiently for Gabe to take it on his own. He mostly ate here, only venturing to the kitchen if it was empty, his movements skittish. He still had trouble showering on his own, so Dean and Sam made arrangements: Dean would spend most of his time caring for Mary, and Sam would take Gabe. It was working, and for the most part, it was Dean being on the receiving end of a wet sponge thrown at him, or a look of rage when asked to be social. Sam was glad of it; he didn’t want another bowl of soup or a slice of meatloaf thrown at him anymore.

“Both, huh?” Gabriel was really going to town on his now cinnamon and chocolate oatmeal. The browns making it look a lot like the mud he’d had caked in his hair when he’d first arrived. “Hmm, guess I’ll have to try that some time. I just added blueberries to mine. Mom’s doing a bit better. She’s in the library reading if you want to come with me later. I was going to sort through some things.” Gabe nodded. He would nod or shake his head minutely now, but Sam would still see it, if he squinted, that is. “Yeah? Great! Oh, and Dean is taking Jack and Cas back into town for some stuff.” At that, he got a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, guess home improvement isn’t Dean’s calling after all. Mom wants new journal and Jack’s getting socks. Do you want anything?”

Gabe put the bowl down on the tray and spread his hands on the old wool blanket.

“A blanket?” **No**. “A comforter?” **No**. “A comforter _and_ a blanket?” **Yes**. “Okay. need sheets two? Or a new pillow?” He shook his head no again. “Okay.”

Sam sat in the chair, watching Gabriel eat, telling him yet another story about him and Dean. It was their routine now. He’d check in on him, ask him if he needed anything. He’d feed him, help him with the shower, or doing laundry, and he’d tell him a story. Nothing dark, and nothing to remind Gabe of major things that he’d missed. His eyes still glazed over from time to time, and tat would never go away, but those moments were shorter, and further in between. It was progress, even if it was slow.

“But then, when I told them that monsters were real, Fred kept hitting his head on a tree and Daphne said _‘am I going to hell?_ ’ So… me thinks Daphne’s done some shit in her day. Maybe she and Velma were secretly together and she thinks she’s going to be punished for it.” He chuckled to himself. “But the best part had to be Dean in a nightgown - yeah. An honest to God nightgown, all the way to his ankles and the ugliest shade of purple I’ve ever seen.”

The spoon hit the bowl, a tiny noise came from Gabriel’s mouth. It took Sam a second to realize it was Gabriel speaking. “I would have paid good money to see that.”

Sam’s eyes shot up to meet the Trickster’s. Opening and closing his mouth, ever the fish, he struggled to keep his tone even. “Yeah. I wish I had a camera.”

They smiled small smiles at each other, Gabriel’s hand playing with the loose thread on his sock. They spent the rest of the morning in the library, only stopping when Sam brought out sandwiches, then moving to the ‘Dean Cave’ (ugh, did Sam ever hate that phrase) to watch where they’d left off in the bake off show they’d been binging through.

Dean found them, half asleep just before dinner, Gabe’s head resting on Sam’s shoulder and Mary’s good leg on her son’s lap as he rubbed her foot. He left them be, leaving the bags of fast food on the table next to door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** mentions of the torture and the rape Gabriel went through****

Cold sweat clung to his forehead. Shooting out of bed, gripping his gun, he realised the screaming wasn’t inside his head, or his room, but next to it. Ripping himself from his bed, he ran to Gabe’s. Sam holstered the gun and approached him carefully.

Gabriel was having a nightmare, and a nasty one if the pleas to spare his life were any indication. His entire body was over the covers, a pillow on the ground. He hadn’t bothered changing into his pajamas, jeans and tshirt disheveled. Sweat covered his far too pale face, hands wringing in the new blanket Jack had picked out for him at the Target a few weeks back.

Sam approached the bed cautiously, calling out to Gabriel to wake up. He did, after the fourth try, shooting up and scrambling back against the headboard, only relaxing an inch as Sam sat down. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe, it’s okay. I’m here Gabriel, you’re safe.”

Gabe heaved big deep breaths, staring over Sam’s shoulder at Dean in the hallway.

“What’s going on? Who’s being murdered?”

“No one, Dean.” Sam didn’t even bother turning around. “He had a nightmare. It’s okay, I got this, just go to bed.”

He heard the clicking of the safety being put back onto the gun and his brother sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” His socked feet padded away.

“Hey, Gabe?” Sam slowly reached a hand across, surprised when Gabriel grabbed it. “Hey. You’re okay, see? I’m here, I’m real. That was just a nightmare, and no one can hurt you. Remember when Cas beefed up the warding on the bunker? No one’s coming here for you. As far as any living demon is concerned, this place doesn’t exist. You’re okay.”

Gabriel shuddered a breath. **_This one was bad. He’s never screamed before._** “I- thanks Samsquatch.”

“Sure. Do you need anything? Water? Tea? An entire bag of sugar?”

He huffed back. “No thanks. I just…. I need to not be alone right now.”

Sam nodded, moving forward to sit more fully on the matress, closer to him. “Thats okay. I’m here. Do you want to play cards? No? Do you want me to read you something?”

“I-” His gaze flicked up to the door. “Jack.”

Sam turned his head to look at the kid. “Oh, Jack. It’s okay, he just had a nightmare.”

Jack nodded, but didn’t move. “I heard you. I heard…. You were screaming in my head. Can you let me heal you?’

“In your head?”

“Enochian. Father taught me. It- can I help?”

A spear to his spleen would have hurt less than the implication that Gabriel’s nightmare had been so bad that he had reached out through prayer.

“No.”

“Gabe-”

“I said NO!” The bunker lights flickered. He was slowly getting stronger, his grace coming back in short waves. Occaisioally, he’d unintentionally let some loose, causing a lightbulb to break or all the water in a cup evaporate, but only when he was scared. Like now. The reminder of how the last time Jack had tried tp heal him was fresh, and he didn’t want the kid near him. “I mean, no thank you. I- I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll be okay.”

Jack didn’t seem convinced - Sam wasn’t even convinced - but he nodded an left anyways, head hung low in defeat.

“The kid was right,” Gabe muttered. “When… Asmodeus didn’t have me the whole time.” Sam scooted closer, intent on hearing more. Gabriel hadn’t once mentioned his time between the Elysian Fields Hotel and being brought to the bunker. “I went to Boca for a bit, then Miami, Thailand, and Brazil. He…. he found me in Brazil. I _should_ have been more careful, but I just- anyways. He did.. Things. Things that were-” He choked out a sob. “He had a- a Judas Cradle, and- and- and a- it was awful and he… he tied up my legs and he… he- he _humiliated_ me. In front of a fucking port- portrait of himself, and he threw me on the Rack after, and I-” He openly sobbed, fat tears and snot running down his face.

Sam pulled him into his embrace, firm but gentle. He buried his fingers in Gabe’s hair, gently scratching at his scalp and rubbing at his back. “It’s okay, you’re safe here, no one’s going to touch you like that. Never again. You hear me? Never. Again.”

They sat there a long time. Minutes, hours, they couldn’t tell. Sam’s shirt soaked in Gabriel’s tears and snort, his hands fisting in the soft cotton. Sam’s back protested at the angle, but said nothing, alternating the positioning of his hands, blunt fingernails tracing random patterns on his scalp, avoiding the scars on the back of his neck. Gabriel’s grip lessened, little by little, until he finally pulled away, looking into Sam’s eyes.

There was something in his expression, Sam couldn’t pin point what, but it was something… desperate. “Did you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

He took a shaky breath in, nodding his head enthusiastically. Sam smiled sadly, grabbing the pillow still on the bed and stood. Gabe took his other hand without hesitation, and they went next door. Sam grabbed a clean shirt, excusing himself to change in the hallway, door closed only enough to hide his frame from view. No _way_ was he going to give Gabriel the wrong impression after… all that. Being stuck in the cage, Lucifer and Micheal duking it out, the torture inflicted on his soul - Even _Satan himself_ never resorted to… _**that**_. He shivered at the thought, disgusted and vowing to never google what the hell a Judas Cross was. There were some things best left out of one’s mind and search history.

Gabriel hadn’t even sat down on the bed when he came back in, choosing to look around instead. His room wasn’t as neat or decorated as Dean’s, but he did have quite a bit more stuff than Gabe. Broken enigma machine that hasn’t worked for years on the shelf above his desk, a plain wooden box next to it with photos and old momentos inside. His desk was messy, old rotary phone, stapler, and half filled notebooks strewn about, the lamp still on. The bed wasn’t exactly big enough for two grown adults, but he was prepared to sleep on the floor if need be. A thought he made known, simply saying “I’ll take the floor.” But Gabriel was having none of that, turning and yanking Sam towards the bed. They lay back to back, Gabriel reaching back with one hand to awkwardly grip Sam’s shirt.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at Gabe’s yawn filled “night Sambo.”

When he woke up with Gabriel spooning him, he said nothing, just getting up to get coffee for them, bringing it back to his room just as the angel woke up. This continued, every night. Gabriel would spend most of his days either in his room, the library, or trailing after Sam. At night, Sam would duck his head into Gabe’s room, the shorter man would get up, usually putting down the book he was reading, and followed Sam to his room. They’d start out back to back, every night, that little boundary being torn to shreds when they woke up tangled up in one another’s arms. They never brought it up, so they just kept doing that for weeks. One night, Sam went into his room to get ready for bed, only to find gabriel already on his side of the bed, snoring softly. Sam stared, wondering how the hell this was his life, then shrugged and climbed in. They stopped sleeping back to back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a legit mall in Kansas, I googled it. Also, as a Canadian, I gotta say, I'm kinda thrown as to whatever the fuck a "Dillards" is.

Dean was arguing with their mother in the garage. AGAIN. Sam sighed as he stopped at the stairs. He needed the car, desperate to have one day to himself, just one day where he could go see a movie alone or order a ridiculously expensive coffee without anyone scoffing at how frou frou it was. But no. Dean had to feel like _now_ was the perfect time to argue with Mary about her not driving with her prosthetic.

“It’s been two months, Dean! And I’m the parent, not you!”

Something metal hit the toolbox they kept near the end of the garage. “Well, I figured, since you’re making a dumbass decision, maybe someone outta be the adult here and lay down some law!”

Sam facepalmed. “You’re an idiot, Dean.” He muttered.

“You’re being unreasonable!”

“ _You’re_ being unreasonable!”

“What’s going on?”

Sam nearly jumped a foot in the air at the voice behind him. He turned to see Gabriel in a too big sweater - probably stolen from Sam’s closet - hands in his jean pockets. “Mom wants to drive. Dean disagrees.”

He pointed just in time to here Dean yell a “because I said so!”

Gabriel frowned, shaking his head. “Don’t worry Sammich. I got this.” He wiggled his eyebrows, but didn’t give Sam an opportunity to say anything, just took to the stairs. Sam climbed up after him, confuse, if not a little apprehensive.

Mary stood three feet from Dean, neither of them facing the stairs. “I am perfectly capable of working the gas and breaks, Dean! It’s my other leg that’s currently being a piece of shit!”

Sam saw a flash of something in Gabe’s hand, but just as quickly as he saw it, Gabriel was already behind Dean, duct taping his entire head. Sam and Mary stood in shock as Gabriel ran around Dean, tape starting at his mouth, then down his neck, up his forehead, then back down his neck, his shoulders, and his arms. Gabe was twice as fast as Dean, even with a bum leg. “There. Problem solved.” He threw the remainder of the tape into the toolbox, turning to face Mary. “Have a good time out, mama W!” He smirked at Sam before going back downstairs.

Sam looked at his retreating back with an awkward, astonished smile. He turned back to his family, Mary gaping at Dean, who squirmed with a muffled shout. “Um… mom? Wanna drive me into town?”

She looked at him, expression slowly melting into mischief. “I’d love to, Sam.” She snatched the keys to her small coup out of Dean’s leather jacket on the work table. Dean struggled more, arms desperate to be free. “Love you honey!” She kissed his cheek, patting his arm and moved to unlock the door.

Dean yelled something at Sam behind the tape sounding awfully close to ‘Sam’, ‘stop her’, and ‘I’ll bill you mustard’, but sam paid him no attention. That’s what he got for being a dickhead at dinner last night. Peas were supposed to be eaten, not launched at the little gape at Sam’s shirt collar, yelling ‘ten points!’ when it landed in Sam’s ‘cleavage’.

Mary blasted Zeplin as they pulled out, Dean trying to chase after them.

The ride was nice, the time alone when they went separate ways for a few hours at the Central Mall in Salina. Sam ate a giant pretzel, splurged on some soft pajama pants from Old Navy, even stopped in the bookstore to pick up a few novels on his must read list. They weren’t taking on any cases as Mary and Gabe recovered from their individual traumas, so he had time to read for pleasure now. He spent most of the afternoon on the floor there, reading the first chapter of each book to see if they were any good, a small pile of ‘read’ and a larger pile of ‘not a chance in hell’. He even stopped in the candy store across from Old Navy to get some tooth rotting sweets for Jack and his uncle. Castiel wasn’t going to be happy about Jack getting a cavity, but the kid deserved a treat. He had helped Dean instal ramps and handrails throughout the bunker, even putting together the shower chair - that Mary and Gabe both insisted they didn’t need, but used anyways.

He felt so at peace, even with the annoying crowds, he was just glad he was above ground for a chance.

He found his mom in Dillards looking at overpriced sneakers. “A hundred and twenty five dollars for a pair of shoes with holes in them.” She shook her head. “Our barbeque didn’t even cost this much when you were born! Ridiculous.” She scoffed and put them back, pausing to look back at him. “Oh, no. I’m starting to sound like one of those old ladies, sitting on her porch and complaining about high gas prices and punk kids running on my lawn.”

Sam chuckled. “I don’t think you have to worry about any kids on our lawn, mom.”

She smiled up at him, gripping his shoulder.

“Aw… what a sweet son you have there.” They turned, an older woman about seventy five standing behind them wearing mismatched floral pants and a blazer. Her glasses hang from her neck on a chain, a rosary tucked in the cheap polyester shirt under her blazer. “You look too young to be his mother, though. May I ask what you use to keep your skin looking so supple?”

Sam choked on a laugh at his mother’s face at the word ‘supple’. “She does a lot of yoga.” She wasn’t answering, so he did to fill the awkward silence. “She also drinks a lot of kombucha and kale smoothies. And bacon. A _lot_ of bacon.”

The woman placed her hand on her chest in shock. “Oh, my! I guess I best get some kale and a yoga mat then!”

They laughed as they left the mall, wiping tears away and clutching their stomachs.

The sun was setting as they pulled the Impala back into the garage, Dean now free of tape standing at the top step with his hands crossed.

“Here,” she threw the keys at him, his catch perfect. “Not a scratch on her, and I bought you a new flannel. And a dvd for some movie called _Horrible Bosses_. It’s a comedy.” She gave him the bag, gently moving past him to hop down the stairs, holding onto the railings on both sides.

“I can’t believe you let her drive!” Dean yelled, sure that Mary was out of earshot. “What if she crashed! Then you’d both be dead, and-”

Sam covered his brother's mouth with a hand. “Honestly, Dean. She was fine. She didn’t fall once, drove safely, even did the speed limit the whole way. She even used the cane Cas picked out for her. We had a good day, just let it go.” He moved his hand off before Dean could lick him, then headed for the library.

Jack was sitting on the top of a table, feet tucked under him, Gabriel still in Sam’s sweater in a chair across from him, throwing M&M’s at the boy’s mouth. “Ten more points to Hufflllllllleeeeepuuuuuuuffff!” Gabriel yelled as the candy landed perfectly in his nephew’s mouth. Jack extended his arms up in triumph, Gabe making fake crowd cheering noises.

“I see you two have had a productive day.” He set the bags down on the table next to Jack.

The nephilim nodded. “Uncle Gabriel and I sorted through some old ledgers and Dean taught me how to change the oil in the Packard, and then we started making dinner. I’m excited to have pot roast!” His fingers twitched towards the bags. “What did you buy?”

“Well, you’ve been helping out a lot lately, so I thought you deserved a treat.” He pulled the candy store bag, logo of a teddy bear holding an old-fashioned lollipop hanging from the ‘d’ in Candyopolois. Jack’s eyes lit up as he took the bag from Sam. “I also got you the last Harry Potter book since you’ve blown through the first six.”

“Wow! Thank you Sam!” His dimpled smile lit up his whole face. He carefully placed the book down on the table next to him, swinging his legs to dangle them off the edge. He rummaged in the bag and pulled out a large round twisty rainbow lollipop the size of his face, pure awe all over his face. “Wow! This is incredible! How do I eat it?”

“Oh, that’s easy kiddo,” Gabe’s face was composed. “You need a bigger mouth.”

Jack stared at it in confusion, unaware of the look Gabriel and Sam shared. At first, Gabe looked scared the joke was out of place, but as soon as Sam started laughing, the dam broke. Castiel found them wheezing, faces red and stomachs hurting from laughter. The look on his face when he saw the sweets was far from calm. He announced dinner was ready, and stuck his hand out for the sweets, promising a jelly bean pack once Jack ate all his greens.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam awoke to another morning with Gabriel’s hair in his face, contemplating dragging the other bed in here so they could push them together, but knew that it wouldn’t fit with the dresser and his desk, so shook the thought from his head. **_Maybe just buy a queen sized bed._** He stared at the back of his sleeping partner’s head and mulled it over. It would be nice to have more room to stretch in bed, but that seemed like too much of a commitment. **_This is temporary,_** he thought. **_Gabe will go back to his own room when his nightmares go away._** And Gabe’s nightmares were lessening, so that could be any day now. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, more so than his morning breath. Did he want Gabriel to stay in his bed? No, that was crazy. Or was it?

He huffed, carefully untangling himself from the sleeping form, making sure he was still fast asleep before heading out for a run.

The air had some bite to it in the morning, strange for the start of June, but not unwelcome to his heated body. The burn to his muscles was nice, familiar and comforting. He’s always loved running with headphones in and no one around him, no threat of death or injury; just him and nature. The woods by the bunker had a good path he frequented, birds and the occasional chipmunk his only distractions. Normally, he’d run for an hour, but since Mary’s leg needing amputation, he’d been cutting them to thirty, then twenty. Soon, he only worked out in the bunker gym, the vintage single belt self powered treadmill became his running path, always around in case anyone needed him. Today though, today Sam took an hour long run, lungs straining in the best ways, Journey blasting in his earbuds.

He kept the buds in even when he reached the bunker, taking the steps two at a time, heading straight for the showers. He only pulled them out as he got undressed, humming the tunes as he lathered. When he toweled off, he dressed and leaned forward to dry his hair. As he dropped the towel, he startled at seeing Gabriel standing in the doorway.

“Gabe! You scared the shit outta me! You gotta make some noise when you walk, man.” He looked up from the bunch he sat on, confused. Gabriel’s hands were crossed over his chest, eyes furious and mouth in a snarl. “Wha- what’s wrong?”

Gabriel scoffed. “What’s wrong? _What’s wrong?_ Hmm, let me see.” He cocked a hip, leaning it on the doorway, a finder on his chin as he mocked contemplation. “Well, maybe let's start with how you said yes to _Luci,_ and jumped into the frickin’ cage.”

Sam winced. “Gabe-”

“Or maybe when you came back _soulless_ for a year, and then you getting your soul back, only to have the wall between it and the rest of you breaking.” He kept going, ignoring Sam’s words completely. “Or maybe my _dumbass_ brother deciding to swallow _every fucking leviathan soul_ for power, only to have them run rampant - I knew they were out, but I was cut off from heaven, so _sorry_ for not knowing that little _tidbit_. Oh, then you _dumbasses_ got the leviathan back into purgatory, which, bravo, but _no_ , because your brother and my brother ended up there _for a year,_ and came back, except Cas was being controlled by some pencil pusher named Naomi, which I never met BT-dubs, but heard she was a real bitch from Ezekiel back before I left heaven. _Then_ , oh man, my favourite part,” venom dripped from his voice. “You _took on the trials_ to try to seal off hell. And damaged beyond belief, what do you do? You let _Gadreel_ in. And there’s a whole bunch of stuff in between: working with Crowley and Rowena, a couple prophets, Abbadon, and my _fucking psycho aunt Amara_ \- and I don’t use that word lightly with her, honestly - then Lucifer possessed as a fucking has-been rockstar, and then the _president_ , you and Dean going after him, you ending up in fucking _maximum security secret prison_ , oh, am I forgetting anything? Did you slit the throat of a _unicorn_ and drink it’s blood? Hmm??”

Sam cast his eyes downward, face slack. “Yeah, I think you got most of it. I mean, there was a dog in there I hit at one point by ac-”

 _“You hit a dog_? What the actual fuck, Winchester?!”

Sam covered his eyes with his still damp hands. “I know, I know, I fucked up. I fucked up a lot, okay? So if you want to yell at me for hurting all those people, then fine, but can we not do this in the showers?”

A big heave of breath was let out, then a gentle hand on his shoulder brought his head up. Gabriel’s eyes were full of hurt, not rage, surprising him more than anything. “How could you not take care of yourself? How could you do _all_ _that_ , and pretend like you haven’t destroyed your body, your _fucking soul_ , Sam! You’ve spent the past two and a half months lecturing me and Mary and Jack and Dean, hell, even _Cas_ about taking care of themselves, and you didn’t fucking take care of yourself!” He shook Sam. “How could you- how could you just… _Why_?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know.” The voice was small, hurt laced with confusion. “I don’t _know_. It’s just easier taking care of everyone else. I don’t- I’m a _freak_ , I’ve always been, so I might well doing good thing for other people to make up for that, and-” he stopped, Gabe’s hands on his cheeks, squishing his face into a good contender for **Best Fish Face In Kansas 2018™** .

“Shut up, just… shut up and listen.” Sam nodded, Gabe’s hands never leaving his face. “You gotta stop. Stop trying to sacrifice for yourself every damned big bad, okay?” His voice softened, face slipping into contemplation. “Your family is bigger now, and more people count on you to be alive, rather than to sacrifice yourself to keep the whole world spinning. Make a network, delegate, let someone else handle the bs once in a while. I-” he sighed. “It’s heartbreaking, kiddo. Just… you gotta take it easy, just..”

“Gabe?” He slurred, droll running on his chin, sounding like ray.

“Huh? OH!” He let go of Sam’s face like he’d been burned, taking a step back. “Sorry.”

Sam rubbed at his cheeks, bringing blood back to his skin, wiping the drool from his chin. “It’s okay. I mean, don’t do that again, cuz that _hurt_ , but you made your point. I really don’t take care of myself like I should. I was going to tell you about it all, but… the time never seemed right. Who-”

“Castiel.”

“Yeah, seems about right.” Sam sighed. “He tell you Dean was a demon?”

He scoffed, the image of the old trickster so clear it was eerie. “Yeah. And he made out with another demon? Meg? Cas did, I mean, not Dean. But then again, angels are more his thing if noises from their extracurriculars have anything to go by.” Sam’s eyebrow raised in question. “I told Cas to soundproof their room or I’d dye his trenchcoat neon orange. You’re lucky you were asleep two weeks ago when they started going at it. Your brother is a kinky bastard, but mine is,” he visibly shivered. “Worse. I had to slip out and pound on their door and tell them to shut the _fuck **up**_. I’m all for sex positivity, but even Jesus Christ, the first prophet of the Lord and besties with all the prostitutes of Nazareth and Galilee, would have been telling them to stop.”

“Wait, Jesus is- _was_ a real person?”

“Yeah. And he looked nothing like the portraits everyone hangs in their churches. _That_ portrait was done by Raphael - the painter, not the angel, the angel couldn’t paint _for shit_ \- in the 1500’s. When old Constantine ruled, he had artists make all the pictures of Jesus white to get more Europeans into Christianity. Its bullshit. I _saw_ Jesus. He was about as white as I am Dwayne The Rock Johnson on the weekends.”

A peal of laughter left his mouth, unbidden. The thought of Gabriel’s face on top of the Rock’s body was absolutely ridiculous. Gabe seemed pleased with his joke, smile tugging the corner of his lips. “So… _ha ha ha ha ha_ \- sorry. So, you um, you really had to go to Mary and tell her she was pregnant with Chuck’s kid.”

Gabriel scrunched up his face. “Yeah, we’re not going to talk about my Dad’s sex life, especially since we just talked about my baby bro’s sex life less than ten minutes ago.”

“Fair, Fair.” Sam lifted his hands up in surrender. They were quiet a moment, Sam finally standing. He took a step forward, Gabriel shrinking back. “Gabe….” he murmured sadly, softly.

“Ah. Sorry; force of habit.” He stayed still and motioned Sam foreword.

Sam smiled and stepped forward again, enveloping Gabriel in a hug. His cheek rested on the top of Gabe’s head.

“I really hate how much taller than me you are Samoose.”

Sam chuckled lightly. “Crowley used to call me moose. And Samantha, and jolly green giant.”

Gabriel pulled away to look into his eyes, that same unfamiliar sparkled dancing in those whiskey eyes. “Course he did. Couldn’t come up with something original.”

“Oh, and you can?”

“Psht! Give me some time. I’ll come up with something.” He sighed, tummy rumbling loudly. “I’m really hating this ‘halfway human’ bullshit. Let’s eat something.”

Sam moved away, tidying up after himself before letting Gabriel drag him to the kitchen by the hand.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *reference to the rape scene in Girl With The Dragon Tattoo when speaking about the past rape, and "pink mist" referring to when a human being explodes and all that's left is pink mist*

Soft voices from the war room should have been an indication of a private conversation he shouldn’t intrude in on, but Sam was desperate to find his phone charger - his phone was already at eleven percent damnit! So he stood by, waiting for them to finish talking. Yep. _Totally_ not eavesdropping. Uh-uh.

“Brother…” Cas sounded so defeated. “How can I convince you-“

“No.” Gabriel replied firmly. “No. He’s too nice, Cas! He shouldn’t be nice to me at all. I fucking killed his brother like, a hundred and nine times in front of him, then I put him in TV land where I had him operate on his own brother, then put him in a game show where he had his nuts smashed in by a rubber mallet ball on a stick, and _gave him fake Herpes!”_

“Gabriel-“

“No! No. This is just another hallucination. This- this isn’t real. It just- it can’t be.”

Sam decided that was more than he could handle, walking backwards quietly out of the library, then walking back in with louder steps. “Hey Cas? Have you seen Gabe? I was thinking he’d want to go on a walk with mom and Jack.” He called out. Made a show of turning the corner until he could face them both fully. He “Oh! There you are! What do you think about a walk? The fresh air would do us all some good.”

Gabriel’s distressed face slipped away as he put on his mask of smug arrogance before his eyes, a distressing memory of him in a ring of fire in that warehouse all those years ago flashing in Sam’s mind. “I dunno green eggs and Sam; it’s safer inside…”

“We’ll have Jack with us. What’s safer than a nephilim?” Sam asked, shooting Castiel a pointed look.

“Oh. _Oh_!” Castiel exaggerated a wink at Sam behind Gabe’s back. “I think Sam’s right, Gabriel. A walk would do all of you some good, especially seeing as how Dean and I will be preoccupied elsewhere.”

Gabriel scrunched his nose in disgust. “Ew, don’t need to know about your sex life Cassie.”

The other angel huffed. “We’re going to Sioux Falls to meet Jody on a lead on Rowena, not ‘christening the bunker’ as you so put it the other day. I respect the boundaries of this home, if that wasn’t obvious to you before.”

“The noises you were making the other night say other-”

“Woah!” Sam threw his hands up. “Nope. Uh-uh. Not a chance. Come on Gabe, let’s get shoes on and go.” Gabriel threw him a pleading expression, so Sam moved forward, grabbing his hand softly. “Please? Mom hasn’t left her room since we went on our mall excursion, and she needs to keep working using her new prosthetic.”

Gabriel shut his eyes, taking a steadying breath. “FINE. Fine. I’ll go.” He opened them, using his free hand to point a finger at Sam’s chest. “But only for fifteen minutes - twenty tops.”

Sam nodded. “Deal.”

\-------------------------

“I think I like summer best,” Jack broke the dead air between them, ever the ice breaker in the family. “It’s when most people spend time outside, and there’s always so much life around! I especially like the flowers and the fruit growing everywhere.” They’d gone back on the path after a short detour to the nearby clearing, Jack insisting on picking a handful of wildflowers for the kitchen table. “Although I did rather enjoy the hot mulled apple ciders and pumpkin spice latte in the fall.”

Gabriel snorted. “You let the kid have a _pumpkin spice latte_? Seriously, Sam, you’re spoiling the kid.”

Sam shrugged. “And? Why is that a bad thing if it’s something that happens from time to time?”

There was an expression halfway between confusion and contemplation, with a bit too much smugness underneath to be anything other than Gabriel. “Guess it’s not. Just…” He shook his head, small smile curling a the sides of his mouth. “It’s sweet.”

“Why yes,” a familiar southern voice drawled on. “Yes it is.”

The blood ran from Gabe’s face, stopping short behind Mary, Asmodeus standing ten feet away, pristine white suit and a tall chrome cane in one hand, nothing more than decoration. Two demons stood behind him. Sam reached a hand towards Gabriel, bringing him in closer to his side, Mary already lifting her arms to block whatever the kentucky fried demon would try to hit them with. Jack tilted his head, eyebrows knitting in rage. “What are you doing here?” He asked, eyes starting to shimmer. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Ah, Jack my boy! How lovely to see you again. I see you’re still slumming it with the Winchesters. Shame, really. You have _such_ potential, and I _do_ hate to see it wasted on a couple of old, rusty hunters.” He snapped his fingers and the two guard dogs he’d brought with him grabbed Gabriel’s arms. Sam held fast, shoving at them. Gabriel couldn’t move, fear cementing his feet. “I’ll just be taking my little pet back now, if you don’t mind.”

“We _do_ mind,” Mary spat out, knife already slipping from her coat pocket.

“And I am not _your boy_.” Jack’s lip curled in rage.

Sam made a show of Ruby’s knife, thankful he remembered to take it with him last minute. “How about we make a deal?” Gabriel’s eyes widened in fear, staring up at Sam who wasn’t so much as looking at him. “You leave with both of your guard dogs, and next time I see you, I’ll make your death half as slow and painful as I intended. Hmm? Sound good?”

The laugh he let out was bitter and heated. “Samuel, darling sweet Samuel. You know I can’t do that. He’s my property, and you took him. Him, and my little british fellow. Say, where is that one at?”

“Dead.”

“Hmmm. Shame. Would have liked to kill him myself.” He rubbed at his beard in thought. “Ah well, might have to just get all my fun from little Gariel then. Isn’t that right, pet.”

“No.” Sam stood his ground, knife poised at the closest demon’s throat. “He’s no one’s pet, not then, not now, not ever.”

Colonel San-douchebag took a half-step forwards. His voice dropped an octave, what little patience he had was thinning. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, little Winchester. Gabriel and I have a very close relationship. You could say… well you could say he’s the Lisbeth to my _Bjurman_.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Sam shouted, no longer composed, no longer caring if he was or not. “I’ll fucking deep fry you and feed you to the hellhounds and then I’ll get Cas to send me to purgatory, and I’ll do it all over again!”

“Oh, Sam, if only I believed you could.” He chuckled; sick bastard getting his kicks in. “You’re out matched here. Take him.”

The demons pulled at Gabriel, wrenching him from Sam’s grasp, Sam desperately clawing for him back, Gabriel fighting against them.

“ **NO**!” The shout ripped from Jack’s throat, hand raised and both demons exploded into a fine pink mist, covering everyone and everything in a four foot radius. Gabriel collapsed into the soft earth, Sam sliding down to him. Jack turned to face Asmodeus again, hand raised in attack.

“Now, Jack, listen. We can talk about this! You can have him, and I’ll just leave. Does that sound okay to you?”

“No.” His eyes glowed, golden and too bright. “It’s rude to kidnap people, and cruel to torture them.” Within seconds, Asmodeus snarled, and became pink mist himself. The bright flash of light from within the clearing left an Asmodeus-sized shadow on the ground where he stood, forever burnt into the trampled grass beneath his feet. Jack turned around, seeing his uncle crying and shaking in the arms of Sam. “Are you okay?” He whispered. “He’s gone now. I made sure to destroy him completely, so he won’t even go to purgatory, or the empty, or anywhere else.”

Sam wiped the bloody mist from Gabe’s face. “It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s gone. He’s never going to hurt you again, I promise. I promise, Gabe. You’re safe.” He pulled Gabriel into his lap, rocking him back and forth. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“He’s - he’s really gone.” Gabriel cried into Sam’s shoulder.

“Yes. Gone.”

They stayed on the blood covered ground, Mary and Jack leaving them some privacy. Even after his sobs subsided, Gabriel and Sam stayed wrapped up together for hours. Even as his stomach growled, Gabriel wouldn’t let go of Sam’s now ruined flannel.


	11. Chapter 11

Thursday and Sunday nights became movie Netflix nights, Thursday being strictly reserved for movies - upon Dean’s insisting - and Sunday would be left up to random chance - Dean usually deciding on a movie again anyways. In between, they’d run errands, do laundry, digitize some files, even play cards. On the odd occasion, Dean and Castiel would take a case together, leaving for days at a time, sometimes ‘two’ cases would be done back to back, leaving them away for weeks at a time - though no one need pretend that they weren’t just using it as an excuse to make up for lost time. When they’d gotten back to the bunker after the little shit show with Asmo-can-suck-my-dick-ous, they’d been horrified to hear what had happened, especially after their lead for Rowena and whatever the hell she was cooking up with her book of the damned lead nowhere. Castiel insisted they stay, and Dean was fine with that…. For about a week.

Sam had been itching for a hunt too, _God_ was he in need of punching something in the face. With a knife. Gabriel however, hadn’t left the bunker since, and Sam didn’t want to leave Gabriel and his mother alone together. God _knows_ what the two would cook up if left to their own devices. While they were both healing fairly well, they still had a long way to go, that especially evident whenever a loud noise startled Gabe into cowering away, or Mary taking a misstep and wiping out on the hardwood floors.

Gabriel’s grace was much stronger now, and while he was closer to forty percent full power, he still needed to eat and sleep, even though he’d needed less of both. But he indulged himself with sleeping, especially curled around Sam. Sam, whose nightmares of the cage surfaced every so often, who would wake up before he thought Gabe did and would spend minutes just tracing random swirling patterns on his skin the relax his hammering heart until Gabriel pretended to be waking up for the first time. He didn’t want Sam to think he didn’t need him anymore, even though he technically didn’t. He _wanted_ him. _Wanted_ him in bed next to him, _wanted_ to steal his clothes, _wanted_ to kis- no. No, that would be absurd. Sam would never allow it.

Or so he thought until one Sunday night, Mary deciding her prosthesis would be better severed laying on the floor as she sat on the armchair an entire couch length away from it.

“Bothering you again, mom?” Dean grunted, passing her the popcorn.

“Yeah,” she sighed, half paying attention to whatever Drew Barrymore’s character was saying on screen. “It’s not pinching anymore but it really itches. Almost as bad as when I got poison ivy in ‘63.”

Gabriel turned his head towards her. “Really?” She nodded, stuffing her mouth with popcorn. “Can I take a look at it?”

“Knock yerself out,” she mumbled behind a full mouth.

Gabriel reached down the edge of the couch, pulling it towards him. He studied it in the low lighting of the rec room, running an index finger on the inside lip if the opening. He pressed at it from a few angles with his thumb, a little grace pulsating out to change the shape a little. “There. You had a few tiny bumps on the inside lip of the socket there, so I smoothed them out. Also, I changed the makeup of it a little. I figured you’d want something from this century, so I made it myoelectric.”

Five pairs of eyes all stared at him and the artificial limb he was holding, now looking very different than it had seconds ago. Sleek, modern and definitely high tech, the socket still looked about the same, but the bottom was truly a work of mastery. The once stiff rotator was now powered by a battery, strong yet thin, flexible. The pylon and foot flexed like her non-artificial foot and ankle flexed, rotating easily as he demonstrated by turning it in his hands. He stood and walked over to her, showing her the sensors on the inside of the socket. The once powder blue, cheaper leg now black and silver. It looked almost as good as the ones athletes wear in the paralympic games, if not better. “I made the battery compatible with your laptop charger, so you won’t need one of those traditional ones. Do… do you like it?”

Mary sat speechless, a crumb of popcorn stuck to the top of her open lips, gently taking it from him. She touched it with gentle awe, easily the most precious thing she’d ever held. After her children of course. Maybe. “I-” She ran a finger along the toes, a sob bursting forth at the feeling of separation between the big toe and the other four. “I can wear flip flops again,” she replied dumbfounded.

“Thats… that’s a good thing, right?”

She looked up at him in awe. “Yes, Gabriel. That’s a _very_ good thing.”

He smiled broadly. “Good. Do you want to try it on?”

She nodded briskly, handing it to him to put on. He took it from her grasp, lifting the bottom of her pant leg to roll the cuff up past the sleeve covering the bottom of her residual limb. He carefully secured it, then flicked the tiny switch on the left side, and stood. “Okay, now flex your foot.”

“Okay.” She flexed her right foot, staring at him with confusion.

“No, no. The prosthetic one.”

She stared at him a few seconds, then looked down at her new prosthesis. Carefully flexing the muscles just under her residual knee, the artificial foot flexed upwards an inch.

“Woah!” Dean stood up from the couch, beef jerky packet falling from his hands. “Mom! You just moved your foot! Holy shit! Holy shit, do that again!”

She looked around the room, mouth hanging open again, and flexed it another inch up, then moved the foot side to side. “I’m… I’m moving it.”

“Mom…” Sam felt his throat click.

Gabriel smiled widely at her. “Okay, now tell me,” he sat on the ground by her foot, fingers just under the toes. “Do you feel this?” He wiggled them underneath the toes, tickling her.

“Hey!” She jerked her leg, bending at the knee and tucking the leg away from him in one fluid motion. “That tickled!” She accused before gasping. “That… that tickled… it tickled. I can- I can _feel that_!” She laughed, tears welling over. She straightened the leg and caressed it carefully. “I - I can f _eel all of it_!”

Jack jumped up from his spot on the ground to wrap her in a big hug, bouncing them both in joy. “You can feel! You can feel it!”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yanked Gabriel into a tight hug, surprising them both. “Oh you sweet, short bastard! Thank you!” He pulled away and slapped a hand to his shoulder before sitting down to tickle her toes himself. “Hey mom, feel this?”

“Dean!” She laughed on reflex. “Stop that! It- _ha ha ha_ \- that tickles!” She slapped his hand away, the three of them laughing as Gabriel, Castiel and Sam looked on, broad smiles on their faces.

“Brother, how…?”

Gabriel got off the floor to stand next to the taller angel. He pitched his voice down so Mary couldn’t hear. “I can’t fix her leg, you know I can’t. The bomb… it wasn’t just a pipe bomb. You have to have felt that.”

Castiel nodded grimly. “It had grace in it.”

“Grace?” Sam whispered.

Gabriel nodded grimly. “Yeah. It was… she shouldn’t have lived. _None_ of them should have. Jack saved them, ultimately, and while I can’t ever give her her original leg back, I figured that since I have some power back, I could make it easier on her to move around. I- I didn’t think it’d work though. There isn’t this kind of technology available yet, not this advanced for touch at least. But… look at her.” He motioned to a smiling Mary, eyes closed as she guessed the shaped Dean drew on her leg with his finger, hands stroking Jack’s arms as he still hugged her from behind. “She deserves some happiness. We all do.”

Castiel flicked his gaze onto his brother again, wrapping him up in a warm, crushing embrace. “Thank you Gabriel. You don’t know how important a gift you’ve given her.”

“Okay, okay.” Gabe patted his brother’s arms, trying to get him off. “I need to breathe. Off, _off_.” He smiled as Castiel apologised and pulled away, moving to sit next to Dean. “They look good together, huh?”

“Yeah, Sam replied. “Yeah, they do.” He took Gabriel’s hand in his own. “Thank you.”

“Anytime Sambulance, anytime.”

Sam stared at him, smile affectionate and soft. Gabriel squirmed underneath his gaze a while. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That..” he gestured at Sam’s face, “that _look_.”

“What look?”

Gabriel scrunched his nose and walked away. “Nope. Uh-uh, I’m gone.”

“Aw, come on,” Sam laughed, trailing after him. “Come on Gabe, whats wrong?”

Gabriel flipped him off, walking towards the bedrooms. Sam expected him to stop at their room, but instead, Gabe went into his old room, walls still covered in Enochian, flopping face first on the bed. Sam stopped short at the doorway, confused. “Um… Gabe?” He grunted in response. “Wha… why are you… did you want to move out- did you want to move back in here?”

Gabriel turned over, leaning on his elbows to look up at Sam. “uh… no? I thought… you’d want me to eventually. Right?”

“No!” Sam grimaced at how loud he’s said the word. “I mean, no, not…. Not if you don’t want to. Do… do you?”

“No.” He pushed himself upright. “I just… figured it was only temporary. Until Asm- kentucky fried dickhead was, ya know, dead. I thought you’d want the room back for yourself.”

Sam sighed. “Look,” he sat down next to him, a scant few inches between them. “Yeah, at first I did it cuz you needed it, but I got used to it. It helps, with, well… with my own nightmares.”

“The cage.”

“The cage.” Sam fiddled with his fingers, neither of them looking at the either. “Also, I…. I lost someone recently. Last year, actually. Ketch-” he let out a bitter laugh. “He actually killed her.”

Gabriel turned to look at him ghastly. “What?!”

“Yeah… she- Eileen.” His voice was quiet. “Her name was Eileen Leahey. She was a hunter, a legacy, like Dean and I. She….” his hands tightened on one another. “Ketch sicked a hellhound on her. She was deaf.”

The clock on the nightstand flashed the passing numbers as an entire minute passed between them.

“Sam… that’s awful. I get why you hate him. And frankly, if he had to go out, the bomb was a good way to go.” Sam ran a hand over his face. “You loved her.” He nodded. “I get it. I just confused you.”

Sam looked at him, bitchface number 16. “You didn’t confuse me. I know exactly how I feel about you.”

“Oh.” He looked at the ground, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. “And, uh, how _do_ you feel about me?”

“Surprised, mostly.” Gabe looked up, smile sad. “A little annoyed too.”

“Hey!”

Sam threw his hands up in defence. “Hey, just being honest.”

“Dick,” Gabe scoffed.

“Yeah, maybe, but you did give me fake Herpes.”

“I knew you were listening! Ugh!”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, but you thought I was a hallucination. That wasn’t exactly a nice feeling there. But, I think… I think we’ve been through a lot seperately and together, and I don’t want to pretend like we can just start over, but..” he lifted a finger to stop Gabriel from cutting him off. “But…. I think we owe it to ourselves to, I don’t know, see where this… goes? If you’re game.”

Gabriel said nothing for a long time, looking for something in Sam’s eyes. WHen he seemed to find it, he let a goofy grin claim his face. “One condition.”

“Uh, sure. Shoot.”

“Please, _please_ lets get a bigger bed. I like spooning and all, but I could use a morning where I don’t wake up with my leg dangling from the side of the bed, colder than a dead fish.”

They laughed, loud and warm.

They never used the room again.

Before falling asleep that night, Sam pulled Gabe in and kissed him sweetly, throwing the archangel for a loop. Smiling, Sam tucked his head under the shorter man’s chin. “Good night Gabriel.”

“Uh…. what?”

“Good night.”

Gabriel hummed, thinking a second. “What? No tongue?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. My first Sabriel fic, not sure if my last


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